


i hope you don't mind

by plantedinmymind



Series: eren jeager and his overcomplicated relationships [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angry Kissing, Dubcon Kissing, Hair Pulling, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Making Out, Mild Gore, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29395998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plantedinmymind/pseuds/plantedinmymind
Summary: Jean freezes mid-way between pulling up the waistband of his sleep-pants. Finishing the movement, he cranes his neck over his shoulder and sneers. Hooded-eyes rimmed with dark circles meet him in return, entirely undeterred by the impressive level of contempt thrown his way by Jean, who is now only illuminated from the moonlight shining through the arched windows. Eren’s back is to them, meaning the only thing Jean can see as he squints irritably through the darkness is the cast of his silhouette.He makes the error of trying to ignore Jaeger for a second time.
Relationships: Jean Kirstein/Eren Yeager
Series: eren jeager and his overcomplicated relationships [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2159436
Kudos: 62





	i hope you don't mind

**Author's Note:**

> title is from not allowed by tv girl

Jean’s hands curl into fists at his sides. He ignores the growing sting that has began making itself known, where his nails broke through the tender skin on his palms and left sickle-shaped marks. He grimaces in disgust as the putrid stench of rotting flesh washes over him in waves.

The air is humid, there’s no breeze, and not a single patch of cloud can separate the sun from the putrid display before him; meant to be a training exercise, it serves rather as a sadistic form of comedy for the observant veteran scouts. Jean wants to gag, really, he does, but it’ll make him look weak in front of the new cadets and least of all will he allow himself to be one-upped by _him_ — _Jaeger_ — who’s still crawling his way in prone position under the sagging spread of butchered animal scraps that have been stretched across a net of barbed-wire.

The course is supposedly an attempt to expose the cadets to the stench of death and have them work around it, only so far, it’s been nothing _but_ a grotesque pit of festering animal blood mixed with hot mud that works a way into every crevice of the cadets’ bodies. Punishment for laughing at them was dealt by Captain Levi, and Eren just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Despite all this and Jean’s near-lustful desire for a long, scalding shower to burn away the nauseating odour that has seeped into his pores, watching Eren _struggle_ is enough to put a dull grin back on his face. Though, he’ll think twice next time before he makes fun of a batch of fresh-faced trainees in front of Levi.

* * *

“What’re you smirkin’ at?” Connie pokes, sliding into the vacant seat beside Jean in the Scout Regiment headquarters’ dining hall. He sets his dishes next to his companion noisily, letting the utensils clatter to a standstill once he’s finished sinking to an exhausted slouch. “Do I still stink?” he continues, not waiting for an answer to the previous question before he shoves his arm into Jean’s face. Wrinkling his nose, Jean smacks Connie away and lets out an affirming grunt. “Fuck,” he grumbles. “I practically scraped my skin off, with how hard I was scrubbing.”

“Did you use soap?” Jean suggests dryly, earning a dead stare.

“ _Ha-ha_ ,” Connie mocks around a mouthful of bread. “Are you gonna eat?” he presses, gesturing with his spoon to Jean’s untouched food. “It’ll get cold, if it isn’t already.”

Jean glances down at the table. “Lost my appetite,” he responds curtly.

Connie’s wrist sags and the lighthearted expression fades from his features. “You good?”

Jean swallows. “Yeah. You have mine, actually. I think I’m just gonna go to bed.” Nodding, Connie gives him a comforting pat on the back as he stands to leave and eagerly slides the leftover meal closer to his own.

* * *

The cool evening chill is a welcome change to the earlier afternoon— momentarily, Jean can’t help but stand still and let his eyelids drift shut and feel the gentle breeze brush his cheeks. His shoulders fall, finally, as he shakes off the onslaught of fatigue and starts to trudge out of the empty courtyard and back inside, making up his mind to quit making detours and actually get some sleep.

He expects to find the bunk room empty, and is _un_ pleasantly surprised to find Eren resting on one of the worn-down sofas, arms crossed with his feet propped up on the low table. Jean bristles. Jaeger doesn’t seem to pay him any mind, which somehow manages to make him annoyed, though in favour of peeling off his sweaty boots and diving to his mattress, he does his best to ignore the suspicious feeling of a gaze boreing into the back of his skull and hopes that Eren is asleep.

As if on queue, his voice cuts into Jean’s thoughts. “Could you _be_ any louder?”

Jean freezes mid-way between pulling up the waistband of his sleep-pants. Finishing the movement, he cranes his neck over his shoulder and sneers. Hooded-eyes rimmed with dark circles meet him in return, entirely undeterred by the impressive level of contempt thrown his way by Jean, who is now only illuminated from the moonlight shining through the arched windows. Eren’s back is to them, meaning the only thing Jean can see as he squints irritably through the darkness is the cast of his silhouette.

He makes the error of trying to ignore Jaeger for a second time.

 _I guess the brat didn’t like it when I tripped him back into that_ _shit_ , Jean notes, reeling from the sudden blow of Eren’s boot hitting him square in the back of the head, then follows a blow to the jaw and _how the hell did he get over here so quickly?_ He lets loose an enraged shout and launches himself forward, grabbing a fistful of Eren’s shirt to shove him backward. His back collides with the wall and causes him to hiss in pain. Jean draws back his fist, the other still clinging to cloth— and hesitates. Jaeger’s still watching him. His chin is lowered, so the glare comes from under his brows this time as if vehemently glaring at Jean like he’s the root of all his problems will somehow make them magically disappear.

“You piss me off,” Jean states, slightly lowering his arm.

“Bite me,” Eren glowers from behind the curtain of shoulder-length hair that has fallen over his eyes. He looks uncomfortable, but makes no effort to free himself from being cornered.

 _Calculating_ , Jean notes. _Looking for a way out_. “You act like you’re so much better than the rest of us,” he counters, inching forward to box Jaeger in further. “It’s pathetic.”

“I’m _not_ better than all of _them_ ,” Eren snarls. They’re both drunk and incapable of handling liquor, and the combination of listless summer days with nothing to do now that there isn’t any more titans to kill makes for a mess of being too bored and too frustrated. “I’m just better than _you_ ,” he finishes. There’s no malice behind it, or the tone of it being a brag. He states it like it’s simply a _fact_.

Something in Jean snaps, and his arm shoots out to pin Eren’s wrist against the wall as the shorter of the two tries to land another hit, closing the space between them even further. Jean’s looming over him, now, staring Eren down. _Baiting_ him to do it again. It works— Eren makes a last-ditch, half-assed effort to peel Jean’s fingers off his shirt, although instead of pinning his other wrist, Jean switches from a handful of fabric to pulling down _hard_ on Eren’s hair.

“ _Ah!_ ” he exclaims, eyes squeezing shut as he staggers with the movement and he brings his arm up to grasp Jean’s forearm. Jean does it again, harder, this time tightening his grip and forcefully manoeuvring Eren until he’s looking up at him directly.

“What was that?” Jean croons, voice threateningly quiet. The sneer from earlier was completely wiped away by the boot almost knocking him out, yet the feeling of hot breath in his face makes it slowly creep back. Eren squirms.

“Let me go.”

“No,” Jean retorts, taking one last step closer.

Eren’s stare narrows as his body is backed flush against the wall, completely cutting off any escape. He feels Jean’s thigh brush against his— keeping him in place, preventing him from making any sudden movement that would give him the upper hand, or at least one that would allow him a chance to flip Jean onto his back and make a break for it. That, along with the iron grip locked at his scalp. The silence is gnawing at him, and with each second that ticks by he becomes increasingly aware of how close they’re standing, and how much he wants to punch that snide look off of Jean’s stupid face.

He doesn’t, however, because Jean abruptly crashing their lips together his cuts his train of thought and leaves him frozen in shock. He makes a noise in protest that comes out more like a gasp, causing the taller boy to pause and tilt away to peer at Eren momentarily with an unreadable expression. He curls his fingers, taking the time to actually feel the hair snaked between them. It’s silky and still slightly damp from when he had bathed earlier. Jean’s half-lidded gaze stirs something inside Eren. _Anger_ , he decides. Remembering that he’s still holding onto Jean’s forearm, a muscle in his jaw twitches. Devoid of discretion, he reaches to hook his hand in the collar of Jean’s button-down and bring his face closer until their lips have connected once more.

Jean tugs on his hair again. It’s not any harder than before, but Eren involuntarily unlocking his jaw when the pull angles his head allows Jean to drag his tongue across Eren’s lower lip, and then find a way inside. He tastes like beer and smells like sweat, and Eren is too irritated to care. Even as he notices his wrist is no longer pinned to the wall and Jean’s hand is instead cradling his neck into the easiest angle for his tongue to sloppily explore Eren’s agape mouth with newfound greed, Eren doesn’t care, merely lets his fingers roam lazily across Jean’s skin in the meanwhile with placid apathy.

It isn’t like they share feelings other than mutual hatred. _Desperation_ , maybe, but nothing more. He doesn’t exactly remember what they were fighting about in the first place, and eventually Jean mumbles something about being tired and wanders off to immediately pass out on his bed after appearing satisfied with the accumulation of quiet noises sounding dangerously-close to moans that he had managed to draw out of Eren.

 _You piss me off_ , Jean’s words echo in his mind.

 _Do I?_ Eren argues heartlessly. Sluggishly, he treads to his bed on the opposite end of the room to finish himself off.

**Author's Note:**

> grrrr rattles my cage i like to think that the older eren gets the less he believes that people care about him/he stops seeing the point in caring so much about so much and that's why his eyes look lifeless because i am mentally ill and mr. isayama attack on titan said "you can have a little suffering. as a treat" thank you goodnight. head empty only erejean crumbs this was longer but i hated it so now its short


End file.
